JABEZ. Hullo, John.
JOHN (rising). Jabez, for pity's sake.
JABEZ (impatiently). Oh, I've no time to waste now, John, (John goes l. and leans head on mantelpiece.) I'll see you later. (To Clavering). I suppose Charlie's on his hind legs by now? (Up to c. doors.)
CLAV. Yes. That's the platform entrance. (He crosses to it.)
JABEZ. Wait a bit. Don't go yet. (Clavering stops.) Open the door and let's listen to him. (Clavering opens doors, disclosing Charlie's hack as he stands speaking on platform.)
CHARLIE (off, c.). Your trade's dangerous. You don't make old bones. If you're not poisoned by fumes at forty, you're chucked on the scrap heap because you're no longer strong enough to work. Don't you deserve some compensation when you risk your lives every day you work, when you're only fit to work while you're young? Life is a handicap where the weakest starts at scratch and the devil takes the hindmost. (Cheers. Clavering makes a questioning gesture.)
JABEZ. No. Hear him out. (Clavering nods, still holding the door open.)
CHARLIE (off, c.). You're not dogs. You're men. (Cheers.) You want decent homes and a bit of pleasure in life and something to put by for the time when you can't work! How are you going to do it?
LIVESEY (off, c.). Demand higher wages. Strike! (Cries off of "Strike," "More wages," "Vote.")
JABEZ (motioning Clavering). That'll do, Clavering. (Clavering shuts the door and comes down stairs.)